Friends Across Dimensions
by PippinStrange
Summary: What do you get when you cross the universe and land in a comic? This isn't your typical situation where a girl from our world falls into the Marvel Universe. For example, there's two girls, not one. Buckle your seatbelts because you're about to jump onto the crazy train where two fan fiction authors accidentally jump into an Avengers adventure and inevitable disasters occur.
1. The One Where We Fiff

**Dearest readers, fans, and mutual readers and fans -**

 **This is Gift!Fic for Crystal (aka "QueenofCrystallopia" here on fanfiction) for her birthday. This is basically a crack!fic taking itself totally seriously where FIFFING takes place, which is a term I made up in 2005 for "Falling into Fan Fiction". This is a birthday present for the amazing Crystal to make up for the fact that the other two fics I was going to try and finish by her birthday aren't done yet, when I knew I could probably get a shorter fic done sooner. If you are new to the madness, Crystal is a real friend of mine in real life who writes AMAZING Avengers fanfiction in her own CMFU (Crystal's Marvel Fanfiction Universe) and is now three books in, with more on the way. If you haven't seen them, before to check out her Paint it Black series - #1 Paint it Black, #2 Silent Night, and #3 Riders in the Sky. Her incredible version of Venom has also made a cameo in my own sequel to Infinity War called "Where They Go". If this is your first time, you don't need to read them all before, but you can consider this a companion to some of the material in Riders in the Sky.**

 **Without further ado, we're OFF on an ADVENTURE!**

 **Sincerely, Pip**

* * *

 **The One Where We FIFF**

* * *

Of all the places for Dr. Strange to appear, my bedroom did not seem a likely one. He looks good standing beside my two excessive bookshelves, covered with twinkly lights, antique books, and candles. There's even a collection of vials and a wand.

So, I guess, there could have been worse places for an avenging wizard.

Getting home from work is both my least, and my favorite time of the day. It's time to finally relax and write fan fiction, but, I also feel the last of the work-stress rolling off of me and falling to the floor and pieces. My voice is usually cracking, and my throat sore, from being a helpful Barbie voice on the telephone all day. By the time I get home, my voice is like a pubescent teenage boy.

I like to come home to an empty, peaceful haven. _My_ haven.

And today of all days, Dr. Strange stands in the center of my room, a twirling golden circle open behind him. A portal with edges like a sparkler on the fourth of July.

"Um," I say awkwardly, shutting the bedroom door behind me. Luckily my room is soundproof. "Doctor," I greet slowly. "What uh - what are you, uh, doing in here?"

"I'm here to collect a young man named Michael," Dr. Strange looks at me critically.

"Oh, ha," I say. "That's me. I'm Michael. It happens."

He tilts his head. "You're Michael? The scholar I'm supposed to collect?"

"I'm sure you're spelling it wrong in your head, but, yes," I set my purse down and kick off my heels. "But as this is obviously not a casual visit, please, call me Pippin. For. Uh. Internet reasons."

I quickly pull on a pair of thick socks and put on my black military boots that I use for my Black Widow cosplay. I mean - if we're going to FIFF - we gotta FIFF in the right clothes. For those of you who are new here, FIFFING means falling into fan fiction. It happens to some of us more often than not. I will never forget the ludicrous reactions of my Narnian companions reacting to my shorts and tank top and asking me if I had gotten robbed on the road. That's what I get for fiffing on a hot summer's day.

Man, those were the days.

"I don't care what you're _called,"_ Dr. Strange sighs with frustration. "And I don't necessarily care what you do from this point on except - wait, what are you doing?"

I'm pulling on my black Shield athletic sweatshirt, zipping it up. "Getting ready?"

"I have a short amount of time here," Dr. Strange exclaims, "If you're done getting _dressed,_ you are to follow me through this portal and assist with…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, another universe in jeopardy," I put my cellphone in one pocket, zipping that in. Then I dump my absolutely necessary items from my purse into a small black backpack. Anxiety medication, check. Wallet, check. Water bottle with my Captain America decals on it? Yup. And a bag of trail mix. I have hypoglycemia. Honestly, sometimes I'm Deadpool, defeating cancer and shit. But sometimes I'm the guy with the mustache rubbing sunscreen on my face with no superpowers.

"This isn't my first rodeo," I grin, quoting Agent Coulson. I cinch up the straps and look at him, and then back at the portal open and yawning black behind him. I feel a cinch of nervousness in my stomach. "So do I have time to pee before we go, or…"

"Absolutely NOT," Dr. Strange looks highly offended. "You will have to go in as unprepared…"

"Hey, I put on combat boots for this," I protest. "And I have my drugs. I am WELL prepared. What's the mission?"

"No _mission._ Merely - correcting. I would not expect you to understand. There were many threads to the outcome of this disaster, and we foresaw only one that would work. Just one."

I legitimately feel triggered by the dropped hint of the Thanos snap. Damn Easter Eggs.

"Uh, like, infinity stone level of disaster?" I ask.

"This has nothing to do with infinity stones," Dr. Strange puts a protective hand over the green stone in his pendant. "How do you even know of their existence?"

"You insult my intelligence," I gasp. "A girl can read."

"Well, whatever the hell your name is, Scholar, kindly follow me into the portal."

"You first, Stranger Things."

With a perturbed huff, he spins on heel, his cape flying out behind him with it's own flamboyant twirl. He disappears into the blackness of the portal, and I jump in after him.

For a moment I feel as if I am just standing in utter darkness, but not a darkness because it's nighttime or an otherwise absence of light. It's _inside_ darkness itself, an entity, that breathes and considers where to put me next. But then, I sense light growing like the portal edges from before, sparkling like firecrackers. It opens up immediately to my left, letting in a grayish blue light, and I jump right through.

I collide with another body somewhere in a dark, muffled room. We both scream simultaneously, staring at each other in the dim lighting.

"Oh my GOD!" she yelps.

"CRYSTAL!?" I shriek back. "What are you? What ARE you - doing - wait, what?"

"What is HAPPENING," she exclaims, somewhere between laughing hysterically and just feeling hysterical. "Are we in a CLOSET right now? How did you get in here?"

"How did YOU get in here?"

"Dr. Strange showed up at my _house,"_ Crystal says emphatically. "And he was like, hello, please follow me into this swirling vortex of death."

"So of course you went through," I add.

"OF COURSE I DID," she laughs. "I mean, it's Dr. STRANGE. How could I NOT?"

"So why isn't he in here with us?" I look around the cramped room. There's a small cupboard without doors filled with cleaning supplies and a counter with a single sink. There's a mop leaning against the wall and a bucket on wheels. "In this very nice janitor's closet?"

"Good question. Why would he leave us in here?" Crystal marches over to the door. "Do you think he LOCKED us in here?" she grabs the knob and yanks way too hard. The door pops open instantly and she practically falls out. I trip after her, pushing the door open the rest of the way so that the space floods with light.

"Oh my god, you look SO CUTE," I squeal now that we have better lighting.

"I got this shirt at TARGET," she replies.

"No WAY!"

"Seriously!"

I cackle and glance out into what I thought was a hallway.

Oh, no.

It's not a hallway. It's like, half of an entry.

An entry that opens immediately out into the recreation room of the Avengers Tower. Yes, that room. The room where Stan Lee parties hard with all the Avengers in Age of Ultron. There's couches, coffee tables, (fancy ones), recessed lighting over the huge oval space. There's a bar along the left wall, screens near the right, and on the far end, massive floor to ceiling windows two stories tall. Half of the huge room is dissected by modernized stair planks that go up to a balcony, halls disappearing in either direction.

Most of the Avengers are sitting in couches, staring at us, mouths open with shock.

* * *

...

* * *

 **Well, what did you think?! Totally crazy, right? Please join me in wishing a very very happy happy birthday to Crystal!**


	2. The One Where We Meet the Avengers

**The One Where We Meet the Avengers**

* * *

Crystal and I stand there in absolute silence.

"Holy schmidt," I whisper.

I do a quick mental roll-call. Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Peter Parker, and Steve Rogers.

Crystal's mouth is hanging open and no sounds are coming out. But I think she might be trying to say something. I think this might have broken her. Oh boy, that's it. She broke. I feel like I'm to blame for this somehow, I think I dragged her down this path and there is no coming back from this level of nerd.

Tony Stark is the first to stand up suddenly. "Who the hell are you?" he demands. "How did you get in here?"

I reach over and clutch automatically at Crystal's arm, the way I ordinarily beat the shit out of whomever has the misfortune to sit next to me during an intense movie at the theater.

"I AM," I try, but my voice literally _cracks._ Like a twelve year old boy. My eyes immediately flick over to Peter Parker, and then back to Tony. "I AM… uh… _Pippin_ Strange. And this is my dear friend, Crystal… uhhhhh... Queen. Yup. Crystal Queen."

"Strange?" repeats Tony, eyes narrowing. I don't know if I could pass as a relative to Dr. Strange… physically, maybe… brown roots growing in, blue eyes. Big nose. Yes, I could fake this, I think…

"Any relation to _Doctor Strange?"_ Peter asks way too excitedly.

"YES," I say, just as Crystal erupts with

"NO."

We glance at each other. Oops.

I clear my throat to try and get rid of the obscene Peter-getting-nervous when talking-to-his-heroes rip-off. "I mean, just, by marriage, not really related… like at all. His father married the daughter of my great aunt's ex-husband."

Crystal finally smiles in an absolutely superb mask of containing her fangirling, quickly helping out with my Sparrow-esque fail.

"Very nice to meet you all," she says nicely. She sounds way too calm. "Sorry to interrupt." Yes, this calm is entirely fake. I know for a fact she is about to lose her shit.

"Okay, well, that takes care of the names, but how did you get in here?" Steve Rogers asks, also standing.

Damn, those muscles? Are those real? Those are NOT real.

"Dr. Strange," I point back at the closet. "He said you were - uh - in need of our assistance. He shoved us through a portal and we found ourselves in your janitor's closet."

Everyone sighs with annoyance directed at Dr. Strange's typical behaviors and relaxes, and a severe tension drains from the room that I didn't even realize was there before until it wasn't. Crystal senses it too, her eyes huge and focused entirely on Tony Stark. Alas - the heart wants what the heart wants, she has said. Tony Stark is one attractive individual.

I'm really desperately trying not to thirst for Bruce Banner, so I avoid eye contact. I'd go weak in the knees otherwise.

"He said he was sending someone to help," Natasha says smoothly. "But we weren't expecting two more teenagers. One is bad enough."

"Hey," Peter exclaims.

"Bless their hearts," I say in the Southern accent, "They think we are teenagers."

"Well," Crystal shrugs. "We're not."

"I'm twenty-eight," I scoff. "Do you want to card me?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we do," Clint Barton says dryly.

"What exactly did Dr. Strange say you'd be _helping_ us with?" Tony Stark ignores Clint.

"Not dying," I quip.

Crystal discreetly clears her throat. "He foresaw a future in which we were needed!"

"There are many threads to the outcome of this disaster," I add in my drollest American Benedict voice impression, "...and he foresaaaw only ooone that would work."

"That's Strange all right," Banner chuckles, immediately gulping back his laughter at a swift glare from Tony. "What?"

I gulp too. "So we're not, uh, like, under arrest or anything?"

"I don't have the time nor the ability to handle being arrested very gracefully," Crystal announces, "So if we could avoid that… that'd be great."

"You're not under arrest," Tony sighs.

"Despite the fact you're wearing a fake Shield uniform," Clint points out.

"Hey," I protest, "I thought I ought to be prepared. This was as close as I could get. You don't expect me to show up to help the Avengers in a hot pink suit jacket, do you?"

"Oh, well, if _that_ was the only option..." Natasha rolls her eyes.

"Dr. Strange gave you time to change clothes?" Crystal asks. "We need to have a SERIOUS download later on what _exactly_ happened."

"RIGHT?" I exclaim. Oh. Wait. Not time to get distracted.

"Download time is now, actually," Mr. Stark beckons us forward with a _pull any shit and I will end you_ expression. "We have probably about an hour before the aliens get here, so, we're planning." He does a sort of double take, giving us a doubtful expression. "And Dr. Strange thought you both were absolutely totally and completely necessary to this… why?"

"He didn't say," Crystal replies. "He was very… Enigmatic."

"So you both came from different universes?" Peter interjects. "That is awesome!"

"Yo, hold up, rewind a second," I blink, "Did you say ALIENS?"

They all nod at us like we're idiots.

"What exactly, did you, uh, think you were helping with?" Banner asks.

Yup. Weak knees. Weak heart. Weak EVERYTHING.

"Coming up with a new team name," I reply smoothly, "That does not imply the inherent failure and death _before_ success?"

Crystal and Peter both laugh. I felt like I could count on them for that, and they did not fail me.

"Maybe you should both have a seat," Steve says politely. "It'll be a short debrief."

"O-Okay," Crystal says, shooting me a look. I follow her lead around the side of the couch. We sit down side-by-side on the nearly empty love-seat. (Nearly empty because Clint Barton is half-perched with one hip resting on the arm of it).

My palms have broken into a nervous sweat. I regret wearing a sweatshirt. I glance over at Peter Parker, sitting directly across from us. Alright, so I might be wanting to marry Dr. Banner and make little hulklings, but when it comes to platonic favorites… Peter Parker, damn - he's my _hero._ I've been obsessed with Spider-Man since… well, since before the Sam Raimi movies came out. (I KNOW, I'm OLD.)

I first discovered his existence because our local newspaper began tucking abridged comic-books between the reams. My little brother and I began to excitedly collect them. Somehow out of all of them, I only saved the very first one we ever got - which, ironically, was the Vulture's first appearance.

And I've loved EVERY incarnation of Spider-Man that's ever come out since then. While there's no argument (for me) that the MCU version is better because of the actual young age of the actor and the fact that Sony finally let it crossover with Disney, I was never the type of person that actively hated one Spider-Man over another. I just love the _hero_ , okay?

"So, Spider-Man," I squeak nervously. "Um. Big fan."

Crystal doesn't let me get embarrassed all by myself. "Same!" she adds.

"Oh," he exclaims, clearly surprised. He grins and appears to be fighting off a blush. "Uh. Thanks. I mean, thank you. You too."

We blink at him.

"Huh?" Crystal asks.

"Wait - no wait. I didn't mean to say you too." Peter begins to trip over his words painfully. "I didn't… wait."

Tony slowly reaches over and puts his hand over Peter's face like a blind man reaching for a nearby lightswitch. "Hush, intern. Bruce? Why don't we pick up where we left off?"

"Well," Bruce shifts in his seat uncomfortably, not enjoying being the center of attention. "It's uh - we've already hit multiple dead ends on this front. With trying to find this Key that they are demanding."

"Key," I deadpan, trying to be Indiana Jones, "Why'd it have to be a key?"

* * *

...

* * *

 **Oh, don't worry, there are PLENTY MORE cliches and hilarity to come. To quote Hamilton, Just You Wait.**


	3. The One with the Briefing

**The One With The Briefing**

* * *

...

* * *

"So what's special about this Key thing?" Crystal asks.

"It's a sort of high-stakes blackmail," Tony answers. "Their leader hacked in and basically projected a video message that said we had to give them the key or else. Then they set a timer. So we're prepared for a fight because no one knows what the hell this key is."

"It could be a key, like an actual key, to some sort of Asgardian vault or something," Bruce continues.

"Or a map key," Peter adds.

"Key to the city!" Clint adds unhelpfully, looking a little hopeless.

"The Zodiac key," I laugh.

All the heads swivel and look at me. "Y'know," I mumble, apologetically nerdy and embarrassed, "...the big key that gives a person psionic powers and fire bolts like Scarlet Witch and belongs to the Brotherhood thing? If you use it in the Zodiac vault you can either open up knowledge to tell the future, or step _into_ the vault and go to the future itself?"

Dead silence.

"Well, now we know why Dr. Strange wanted you here," Crystal whispers encouragingly.

"Well, he did call me the _Michael the Scholar,"_ I reply in a goofy tone.

"Oooh, he called me Nuh-gun-do-ko," Crystal pronounces slowly. "I was thinking maybe he was speaking Wakandan."

Steve gives us a focused stare. "What else do you know about this Zodiac key?"

"I'm just spitting out information I read about!" I confess. "And it's kept in the Lock Box."

"How the _hell?"_ Tony exclaims.

"How do you know about the Lock Box?" Steve says.

"No one knows about the Lock Box," Natasha adds. "That's Fury's big… secret."

"Maybe I'm just really good at finding secrets," I say. "We're referring to the same Lock Box, right? The prison for the Zodiac Key? And Carnage? Come one. This is nerd knowledge 101."

"Hey," Peter exclaims, "Then how come no one ever told me about it?"

"It takes decades to reach this level of nerd, young grasshopper," I wave him off. "You'll get there."

He doesn't like having his young age shoved in his face. He gives me scrunchy, pouty look. It's adorable.

"We don't know if that's the key they're referring to," Clint sighs.

"They said to hand it over in an hour or else," Natasha adds.

Peter mimes a mind-blown explosion, hands expanding from his head and making a _pwoooosht_ noise.

Crystal politely raises her hand. "Question. Um… Who are the aliens? Where are they coming from, do we know anything about previous attacks or conquests on others? What's something we have that no one else does? Could whatever that is be the key?"

Tony makes a snapping motion at Bruce. "Oh, you, you uh, you had that transcript, didn't you? From the video feed?"

Bruce slips on a pair of glasses, and I'm practically swooning. He unfolds a shiny white tablet in his hand, swiping his finger up the screen, muttering the transcript out loud as he reads. "Give us the key and we will leave your planet unharmed. Give us the key in one hour and we will go. Give us the key and the Dravec will leave you with your skin."

I feel like all the air whooshes out of the room. Crystal goes very, very still. Maybe she's going into shock. Does she need a blanket? Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Shit, I don't have a blanket.

Peter shudders. "Gross."

"There you have it," Bruce says. "The Dravec."

"You wouldn't happen to know any expert on the DRAVEC, would, you, Scholar?" Tony asks me sarcastically.

I slowly point a trembling finger at Crystal. "Uh. That would be her."

Tony stares at Crystal. Crystal stares back, opening her mouth, shutting it again. "Holy shit," she finally says.

"You're an expert," Tony drawls out slowly, "On the Dravec. This particular alien species."

I try to pitch in. "She wrote the book on it. Literally."

"Dravec," Crystal repeats.

"That's what they said," Bruce says uncomfortably. "Did you want to see the screenshot? We got a picture of the feed they projected. I guess pretty much anyone with a cell phone did. It appeared on every screen in the world."

"Yes please," Crystal replies in a small voice.

Bruce stands up and hands her the tablet.

She stares at the picture of the horrifying alien on the screen. "Yup," she says, almost a little too cheerfully. "That's… that's them." She looks up. All the Avengers - and myself - are all staring at her. I'm, of course, delighted, but also deathly afraid. She's gone and written ourselves the worst villains we could not possibly survive. It's cool in the fan fiction world when the Avengers can defeat them easily, but real life? When us two and very vulnerable writers are faced with the same dilemma?

We are SO dead.

Crystal takes a deep, hesitating breath, gathering her courage. "I can tell you absolutely everything you need to know about them."

"Weapons," Clint asks.

"Plasma-rifles. Superior strength. Armor. Wrist-knives. And..." She swipes on the tablet and pulls up a blank note. "I'm going to start writing all of this down. You'll need to pass this around."

Bruce and Tony both nod at her approvingly. I feel my heart literally swell in my chest with pride for my friend. It would have been nice if they had been a little more respectful to us initially when we insisted that Dr. Strange wanted us here, but even now, I guess it was worth the wait.

"What is their objective?" Natasha asks.

"Dravec are first and foremost hunters, seeking to annihilate the strongest beings in the universe in order to establish their dominance," Crystal's confidence surges. She knows this stuff. And if they need her to help, she most certainly steps up. "They collect trophies of the species they hunt. Asking for a key in exchange for not hurting anyone breaks their objective though. So whatever the key is - it's very important to them."

She taps out a whole list of items I had forgotten about. The rejuvenating skin used for bandages, the spears… the barbed hook thing. Ew.

"Do you guys have a stylus or something?" I ask.

Bruce quickly pulls one out of his pocket, hands it to me. Our hands bump, and my heart goes _THUMPITY THUMPITY THUMP…_ Oh well. I ship him with Natasha anyway. Not because Joss Whedon shoved that ship down our throats, but because I started writing their relationship myself, and suddenly, I could see the appeal.

"Here," I hand it to Crystal. "Draw the prism ship thingy, after all," I add this fact, though it's entirely unrelated, "it's YOUR birthday." I push the pen into her hand.

"Oh, right," she giggles. "Forgot."

There's an awkward silence.

"Oh my gosh, it's your birthday? HAPPY BIRTHDAY," erupts Peter.

We both look up and smile simultaneously.

"Thanks," Crystal grins, and then returns to work. She draws a rough sketch of the shape of their ship with the stylus-pen, drawing a little arrow to a word in the list that says CLOAKING TECHNOLOGY.

"You too," I say back to Peter, just to watch his face turn bright red as he lets out an embarrassed giggle.

* * *

...

* * *

 **Next time, shit hits the fan. Less shit than it is disaster. Hitting us, and not a fan. Although we are fans.**

 **Metaphorial shit hits the fangirls.**


	4. The One Where Tony Gives a Nickname

**The One Where Tony Gives a Nickname**

* * *

...

* * *

"Let's make the best use of our time," Tony says "Let's suit up. Get ready for a fight. We'll share this intel with everyone once she's done - Shield, Secret Avengers, the Inhumans, the Watch Dogs…"

I blink at him. "Really? You have the WATCH DOGS here? And you want to share this intel with them?"

Tony waves a hand. "The enemy of my enemy…"

"Is my friend," I finish. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"All this intel is good an' all," Clint says, "but, if all they want is a key, maybe a key can be found and handed over and save lives and it doesn't have to end in a fight. Like you said, they're going outside of their primary objective."

"In what universe would creatures such as this ask for a key and would it not likely be a tool or a weapon to endanger even more people?" Steve asks logically. He's old school. It's the no negotiation with terrorists type of argument. He knows that they are promising no harm, when they will likely break that promise.

"Maybe it's moot," Bruce replies, "We have no key but we have intel to defeat them from Ms. Queen. I say we go with the only route that has a possible victory." He glances back at us. "Uh… I should be saying victory, right? Hopefully?"

Natasha leans forward. "If you are traveling from another universe, can you confirm that defeating them in combat is possible? And if you've seen any other alternate futures to indicate this?"

"Whatever they want can't be a good thing," Crystal directs this to Bruce. "And even if we did have it and give it to them, things would still likely end in bloodshed with the Avengers being the prime targets. That being said…" She looks over at Natasha. "You can defeat them. I mean, you have, in my universe. No casualties, but it wasn't easy. It will be very, very dangerous."

"They'll go after your enhanced first," I offer. "Won't they?" I peek at Crystal.

She nods. "The ones who are in the most danger are Captain America, Spiderman, Thor, Hulk, Bucky, Vision, and Scarlet Witch." She glances around the room.

"Looks like a few played hooky today," I say.

"Those of us that are missing," Tony infers, "Are working. Currently." He points up at the ceiling. "They are on defensive guard-duty at the moment. And we should get ready too. Any way we spin it, this is ending in a fight." He looks down at Crystal and softens, losing some of his cranky-Iron-Man-attitude and becoming a little more worried, kindly Tony Stark with way too many young people around him and feeling guilty about dragging them in. "Keep typing, godsend."

Godsend?! Crystal might actually melt into a puddle and drain through the floorboards. Maybe she's about to black out, I can't tell.

"Thank you," she smiles calmly, like a serene cat. Milliseconds before someone turns on a vacuum cleaner beside it. And then suddenly she would be flying up the walls and clinging to the ceiling.

Stark stomps up the room to a concealed room along the back. A door slides open like something out of Star Wars, revealing yet another long, gray hallway. It's simply stuffed with several versions of the Iron-Man suit. Clint, Natasha, and Steve get up to follow.

But before he goes, Steve leans down to us. "Put all the info you think you can get into that drive," he instructs kindly, "Pass it off to Dr. Banner when you're done. He will make sure every agency across the globe gets a copy."

Crystal nods emphatically.

"Aye aye, O Captain my Captain," I recite, feeling my face turn red with happy embarrassment.

He does a little double take. "Walt Whitman."

"Yup," I give a short jerk of a nod, and then quickly bend my head to hover over Crystal's tablet, pressing my nose way too close.

"Um, hello," Crystal giggles.

"There's too much fangirling in my bubble, can I join yours?" I whisper.

"There's no room for your fangirling in mine, I'm barely containing myself as it is," Crystal whispers back.

I glance up and realize that everyone had gone to the weapons-room except Peter Parker and Bruce Banner. Peter slips out of his T-shirt and athletic sweatpants, leaving them in a pile beside him on the couch, his suit already on underneath like a pair of long johns. He tugs the mask on over his ears and nose.

Bruce looks… not so good. Really pale, actually, the sage-corpse tone one gets before they throw up or pass out. He is gripping a handful of fabric at each knee, looking past Crystal and I to the view out the huge windows behind us.

Suddenly nervous, I glance over my shoulder. There's nothing back there. Nothing but the New York skyline out the window.

I turn back to Dr. Banner. "Hey," I say kindly, "You're… are you okay? You're looking a little green."

Suddenly I realize what I said. I clap a hand over my mouth. "Oh my god," I exclaim. "I didn't mean - shit. I didn't mean, like THAT. Holy truck. I'm so sorry."

Peter Parker lets out a bark of laughter, and quickly regains his composure.

Crystal jumps to my defense. "She's right," she says apologetically. "You look a little sick."

"I'm just not keen on the inevitable fight," Bruce replies tersely. "Especially when more potential victims are added to the roster. I don't want to accidentally hurt one of you. Not after stepping in to help like this - when you shouldn't even be here. Strange ought not to have dragged you into this. It's not right."

"We chose," I supply quickly. "We wouldn't have said no - but - it's not like he handcuffed and dragged us in."

"Still," Bruce sighs, "I think the esteemed Doctor knows how to phrase a request so it feels like a command, and I think anyone would be obligated to say yes. No matter how dangerous."

I feel a little queasy now too. But I put a brave face on. "So," I laugh, "We could save the world or… sitting at home, contemplating going and getting a pumpkin spice chai, and then ultimately deciding not to because we're too lazy…"

"Speak for yourself," Crystal exclaims, "I'd definitely be getting that pumpkin spice chai." She stands up and walks the tablet over to Dr. Banner. "Uh… here you go. All done. I've listed everything in the shortest form I can. Weaknesses - which is like, almost nothing - what I have on their ships. Just a little history - about their hunting. Mostly I just tried to list all the facts I have about them. You'll want to really be aware of their superior strength and the knives that pop out of their wrists." She mimes a blade sliding out of her sleeve. "Like this. So if they get a hand around your throat, shink!" she slides a hand up to illustrate. "Blade through the skull."

"Thank you," Bruce says nervously.

"You're welcome," she lightly trots back over to me and sits on the couch. Dr. Banner leaves for the lab upstairs, just barely visible through the clean-cut windows and white walls above the rec room's overlooking hall.

"What now?" I whisper. "Should I invoke the spirit of Deadpool?"

"YES," Crystal agrees instantly. "Or… well. Maybe. It depends." She looks suspicious. "Which part of him were you going to invoke?"

"Who's Deadpool?" Peter asks.

"A very rude mercenary," I say, "Rated R."

"Oh, a movie, gotcha," he leans back, looking a little disappointed we're not sharing a secret tidbit from our universe. It's hard to tell. He's masked now.

"Hey," I ask, trying to get him reanimated, "What'd you think of the last Star Wars movie? I assume Star Wars is universal."

His lenses widen happily. "Oh, MAN, where do I even START? Okay, FIRST of all, my friend Ned has this theory that the…"

Suddenly his head jerks as he looks over our shoulders - simultaneously thrusting his hands out in front of him doing that inverted-rock-on sign. Crystal and I both feel a weird slam of web on our upper torsos. There's a deafening, brain-piercing explosion behind us, and we're FLYING across the room - over the couches, right over Bruce Banner's head, and landing on the floor somewhere between the edge of the room. We slide on the wooden floor, and smack into the bottom of the other stairs.

Spider Man just saved our asses.

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 **Coming next: Well, it's BATTLE TIME and Crystal and I have some mystery to solve.**


	5. The One After the Explosion

**The One After the Explosion**

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...

* * *

Peter Parker webbed us right out of the way of the entire floor-to-ceiling windows of the tower getting totally blown out by an unbelievable explosion.

Ears ringing, I look up blearily.

"YOU OKAY?" I shriek.

"YEAH, YOU?"

"YEAH!"

We both are shouting way too loudly, the temporary deafness after a deep, shuddering boom keeping us in a hazy fog. We both struggle to our feet, keep our heads low, turning around to see what happened.

Ironman shoots over our heads, driving his fists directly into a ship at the windows, materializing with a flickering mirror effect. Spider-Man is already webbing his way out of the giant, open hole where there should be glass. There are shards and upturned furniture everywhere.

The ship lets out a metallic screech as the space where Ironman hit it is now dented, the force strong enough for it move away from the window. In the side, a hatch-ramp is opening, slowly lowering towards the exposed floor of the room. It's like the ones Crystal described in her book, only a miniature version. Think the freaky hellish black prism-shaped ships, only the size of large fighter jets.

Bruce was knocked to the floor in front of the couch by the force of the explosion. His back heaves for a moment like he's gonna be sick, and suddenly Clint is leaping over the balcony, landing lightly on his feet in front of us. "Get back, girls!" he commands loudly. "Hulk's COMING OUT!"

Crystal and I scramble to the back corner of the room, tripping and stumbling to duck under the stairs.

"I'm not CUT OUT FOR THIS," I screech way too loudly.

"Listen, if I run, I run," she screeches back.

"Don't worry, I'll be right behind you."

There's a roar like a walrus strangling a lion erupting from by the couch. Bruce's back flinches up, expanding, ripping through his clothes, a green spine and muscles undulating and bursting as he stands, groaning and shouting in deep pitches, to a ridiculous height.

Clint notches his arrows, taking up a position by the counter, ready for whatever might come out of the opening hatch. Overhead, Natasha and Steve both leap down the balcony, landing on the floor near us, and rushing towards the middle of the room, skirting around Bruce's clearly indicated zone of explosive green anger.

The Hulk stands now in the middle of the room, shaking the fuzziness out of his head, clenching his fists and throwing back his head for a mighty bellow.

We cover our ears, and the Hulk takes off running for the exploded end of the room, launching himself off the skyscraper damage and onto what I would guess is the cockpit of the ship. The ship dips uncomfortably under his weight, the otherwise engines suddenly making a metallic moan.

The ramp drops onto the edge of the floor, shifting and sliding across the jagged edge of where a floor used to meet the window frame. Two Dravec come out, just as frightening and horrible as Crystal described them. Never thought I'd see them myself in person, and I'm suddenly wishing - just for the sake of me surviving this - maybe next time she could craft a villain made out of kittens, or maybe balloons.

The two massive aliens grip their plasma rifles in their hands, chests heaving beneath their armor.

Suddenly, the whole floor shakes, and Crystal and I get knocked right to our knees again. It feels like an earthquake, and there's another ear-splitting boom somewhere else in the building.

Out of the hallway by the janitor's closet we had emerged from, a sudden plume of smoke wafts out, dark and thick. And then two Dravec step through the opening.

Clint is firing arrows at the two from the ship, but Steve looks over his shoulder and sees the two closest to Crystal and I.

"YOU GO LOW, I GO HIGH!" he shouts loudly.

He's yelling at Natasha, but Crystal instinctively grabs a lamp that had been thrown across the room, some modern art piece made like a twisted obelisk. The shade and bulb are nowhere to be found.

She chucks it as hard as she can towards the closest Dravec, and it bounces off the armor that covers it in the groin. It glances down with murderous eyes through the slits in its helmet, giving Captain America the opening to go for a lunge across the room, bashing at its neck with the edge of his shield.

"NICE SHOT!" I shout.

"THANKS!" Crystal screams back.

The room is such a whirl of activity I cannot keep track of everything happening at once. I can see a hint of the other Avengers - the ones that Tony had said were already on duty - flying outside, engaged with the ship. I know that somewhere in the rooms behind us, the Dravec had blasted yet another hole just like here, and were pouring into the tower unstopped. Now the room was a defense zone, Captain America and Natasha and Clint engaged near us, SpiderMan keeping the Dravec distracted where the glass was shattered, Tony somewhere at the hatch, using his repulsors to try and cut open the side of the ship. He definitely learned from the Chitauri caterpillar nightmare that sometimes it's easier to defeat them from inside where the hardware is unprotected.

I spy Scarlet Witch land with a red-eyed rage on the top of the ship, and with a thrust of both hands at the hull, red energy bleeds out and begins to cut into the metal. The Hulk is still punching the daylights out of anything that tries to come out of the hatch in the very top.

And still, more Dravec come out of the ramp, and that's when we're surprised by the appearance of Vision out of the wall behind us.

"Ladies, if I may," he says politely, "I need to escort you to a safe location. Stark's orders."

"Okay," we both reply. If we weren't in life-threatening danger, we ought to be hi-fiving for speaking in unison for often. We'll have to catch up on hi-fives later.

Vision offers us each an arm, his lips pursed with the worry of battle and eyes concerned. Confused but just rolling with the punches, we each take an arm, like he's a gentleman asking the last two girls at the party to dance so that we don't feel left out.

Suddenly, there's a wind-sucking detraction of energy all around us, exactly what I imagine apparating in the Harry Potter universe would feel like. For a moment I feel like I'm trying to breathe into a blanket, a blanket made out of stretched, cold silk.

Then we're blinking on top of a building - the very top of the tower. He had phased us right through the walls and ceilings until we're in the open air with a 360 view of New York in every direction. It's a gloriously sunny day, and a sharp wind whistles uncomfortably, tugging at our clothes as if to remind us that any stronger and it could push us right off.

"Wait here and be careful," Vision says urgently. "I must go and help, but I will return to fly you one at a time to another rooftop. This is temporary. Stay here."

"We won't go ANYWHERE," Crystal promises.

Vision floats off the edge of the building and plunges downward, his cape fluttered and disappearing.

Glancing at each other, we both run for the edge ourselves, peering over the half-wall at the battle below.

We can see where the two Dravec ships have each shot different sides of the building, how they come out of the tops and sides of the ships to fight the Avengers in-air. Iron Man, Rhodey, and Falcon are making use of their flying capabilities, zooming around like deadly wasps attacking threats to their nest. Scarlet Witch's huge explosions of psionic red energies unleash and slice through every enemy. Clint and Natasha and Steve both fight in the rooms below us, so we can't see them, but we know they're handling the parasitic invasion below.

"I wish we could DO something!" Crystal groans. "This is awful to WATCH!"

"I prefer writing this!" I add.

"Same!"

"Does it look like they're losing to you?" I ask uncomfortably.

"Uh… yeah, it does."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Things are looking very bad, indeed.

* * *

...

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 **Coming next: The battle continues, and google solves the case.**


	6. The One Where We Figure It Out

**The One Where We Figure It Out**

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...

* * *

Iron Man is locked in a hand-to-hand combat situation, which means the hatch is unguarded now and more Dravec are pouring out and going into the building. The Hulk is grabbing as many as he can and throwing them into the side of the building, but they're fighting and shooting and stabbing just as much. Spider-Man is webbing some of them to the point that they get wound up and can't move, but then they active their wrist-knives and slice their way out again.

Clint suddenly gets thrown out of the building, shoots his arrow into the air, which just happens to be like a grappling hook type, which clings to the bottom of the ship. He's able to zip-line his way back up, but still, it was a close call. I see Captain America's shield come spinning out, clobbering several in the head, and then circling back. They're giving it their all but they are so outgunned and outnumbered. Even the most powerful - Wanda - has been counter-acted, blast by blast, with shots from the plasma rifles.

"Why do you think Dr. Strange needed US here if we're just going to spectate?" Crystal asks frustratingly. "I don't want to watch my heroes get defeated and die horrible deaths. It's one thing to put them in that type of fictional thing so we can watch them defeat evil, but this…?"

"I think the question is, WHY am I here?" I ask. "I'm SO jealous, you're like, their savior, right? They NEEDED you. You're the one who wrote these things, you gave them all the information they need. Bruce Banner probably sent a mass email to every ally - so maybe reinforcements are on the way."

"They expected them to attack in an hour," Crystal reminds me. "They broke their promise and attacked early. Maybe the reinforcements show up and it's too late!"

"Typical Dravec," I groan. "No sense of HONOR. Just murder and mayhem!"

"Ugh." Crystal gives me a bashful glare. "Also, I'm not their savior."

Not like, literally, but…" I laugh nervously. "Humor me. Kind of like an Emma Swan sort of deal. You break the curse. In this case, the curse of ignorance. They knew NOTHING until you got here. And then you were able to give them all the information."

"Well…"

"EMMA SWAN."

"Sure. Okay. Emma Swan. I could live with that."

"So let's say I'm your Henry. I've got to be here too for one reason or another."

"Yes!" Crystal says encouragingly.

Suddenly there's another explosion somewhere below, and we both drop to the inner roof, arms thrown over our heads. When nothing else happens, we both sneak a peak over the edge again.

The Hulk literally tore one of the pieces of the cockpit off the ship entirely, but the Dravec pilots have used those barbed hooks thing to latch out at the side of the building, and are going inside.

The other ship that blasted the other side swings into view, the cannons pointed right at Hulk and Wanda.

Tony Stark gets to them first, shooting energy repulsors out and taking out the weapons before they can fire, and following his lead quickly, Rhodey and Falcon do the same thing.

"Uggghhhhh," I groan loudly. "I hate watching and not being able to help. And I hate being up this high. I feel like I could FAINT. I hate heights. I have the worst vertigo right now."

"Put your head between your knees!"

"No, if I do that, I'll throw up," I moan. "I just need to hold this wall very, very, very tightly. I'm so utterly useless."

"You are NOT!" Crystal shakes her head. "You're right! You must be the Henry. So what do YOU have? I mean, you immediately knew all about this Zodiac Key, maybe that's what the Dravec are looking for."

"It seems to… out of universe for these guys. It's never been in the MCU so I sort of doubt that…"

"Well, neither have the Dravec!"

"Oh, good point." I clutch at the wall. "Uh… um… okay. So. Key. Key Key Key. They want a key. A key to what? A vault? A gate? The universe? The future?" I pause. "Their future? So maybe not the Zodiac for jumping into another timeline directly. If they wanted to time travel, they would just need to capture Strange. Stange put US here, not himself. He's not that much of a coward."

"No, not at all. He wouldn't do that."

I feel my eyes go big like saucers. "Emma and Henry."

"Yup, that's us!" Crystal grins.

"No, I mean, like. He called me the Scholar. And he called you - what?"

"Nuh-gun-do-ko," she says. "I'm about sixty-two percent positive there was a sort of click sound he made with it, so I figured - Wakandan."

"That sounds like an anime character." I unzip my phone from my pocket. The screen is cracked from earlier, but it's not broken. "Hey Google?"

The phone gives a friendly DING in reply.

"Can you translate nuh-gun-do-ko?"

"Nukadoko," Google replies cheerily, "Fermented Rice Bran."

I give Crystal shit-eating grin. "Do you think you may be here because you are the fermented rice bran they've always wanted?"

"Oh my GOD."

"Oh SHIT," I exclaim, "Wait..." I pull up google translate again, this time for the Xhosa translator, which is what the MCU uses for Wakandan.

I type in nugundoko.

Nothing.

Well… now I'm having a theory.

Taking a deep breath, muttering in my best Samuel Jackson voice, "Hold onto yer butts."

I type "key" into the English box for a Xhosa translation.

And there it is.

 **ngundoqo**

"Well, holy, frick-fracking hell," I curse.

"You're killing me! What does it say?" Crystal demands.

I show my screen to her, and she turns corpse-white.

"It's not a literal key for locks, it's the key to their defeat," I say. "And Writer-Gods, forgive me for the cheesy line, but holy spitballs Crystal, YOU'RE THE KEY. The Dravec are after you."

...

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...

* * *

 **Coming next: Targets aren't bad when there's a clearance sale on cute sweaters. Targets kind of suck when they're on your friend's back and a murdering alien race want the knowledge in her head...**


	7. The One With the Key

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* * *

...

 **Dearest Readers,**

 **Guys, I'm a little bit of an AHOLE because I totally forgot to give Crystal credit for some of the lines scattered out throughout the last few chapters. Throwing a lamp? Her idea. The Dravec speech?! Literally all of it. Maintaining serious eye contact with Black Widow?! ALL CRYSTAL. I sent her suspicious prompts throughout the day asking her how she would react or respond to a variety of Marvel-ous scenarios and used her responses to help populate certain areas of the story so that she truly felt like she was reading about herself XD I mean it's one thing to write someone into a fan fiction for a birthday present and another to commit a small act of plagiarism - NO MORE! My apologies! Consider this a joint effort, main story written by me and the most Crystal-esque of all the Crystallopian moments are ALL the fan-favorite, QueenofCrystallopia. (PS; seriously, have you read the Paint it Black universe yet? If not, GO READ IT NOW)**

 **-Pip**

...

* * *

 **The One With the Key**

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 **...**

"The Avengers needed your knowledge for the battle!" I exclaim excitedly.

As if on cue, the building shakes again, and one of the ships pulls up higher, firing off shots in plumes of white-hot heat and yellow fire.

"But wait," Crystal shakes her head. "That doesn't work, because the Dravec said they WANTED the key so…" She stops. "Oh. No."

"Oh yes," I exclaim. "THEY WANT YOU. We're Frankensteining this thing. The Monsters want the Master. You wrote this!"

"Okay, but if they want ME," Crystal shrieks, "Why would Dr. Strange even bring me here? I was completely and totally SAFELY tucked away in my OWN universe! THANKS A LOT, STRANGE..."

"Probably because all the Avengers would have died otherwise," I say. "He said something to me about it being the only recourse - the only succeeding future. He lifted the line straight out of The Infinity War Ending That We Don't Speak Of."

"So me giving the information to them was the only way they were going to win..." she looks over the wall again and shudders.

I look over too.

Zoom, grapple, explosion, energy bolts, the roar of the engines, arc reactors, repulsors, rockets, cries of alarm -

"We have to TELL them, otherwise, someone is going to be wasting their time looking for a key," Crystal says.

"Yeah hopefully no one flew off to the vault to look for the zodiac key, when it's very safely locked up," I groan. "I shouldn't have said anything!"

"At least you figured out what they meant by the key," Crystal says sympathetically.

"You just found out that they are asking for your life in exchange for sparing the planet," I reply loudly, "And you're trying to make ME feel better? You're a nut, and I love you. ALSO," I add quickly, "We're going to figure this out. Don't do anything crazy."

Steve goes flying on top of the other ship, jumps down the hatch feet-first. In a moment, the ship trembles as if someone inside set off a bomb.

"We'll have to get their attention," I wave over the wall and shriek in decibels illegal in 3 countries. "Hey! AVENGERS! ASSEMBLE!"

Nothing.

"Hey!" Crystal waves both her arms. "HELLO! UP HERE! WE HAVE INFORMATION!"

I mirror her movements. "Hey! Black Widow! Wanda! I've got a romantic subplot up here just ripe for the taking!"

No responses.

"Damn, I thought that would work," I say.

"HEY STARK! AVENGERS!" Crystal shouts. "WE FOUND THE KEY!"

I hear a sound behind us. A creaking, like a haunted house door. I flip around, staring at a maintenance entrance off the rooftop to a likely stairwell below.

Three Dravec, fully armored and breathing heavily, have emerged out of the door.

Their weapons pointed right at us.

"Oh, mother-trucker," I say with a pained expression.

Crystal turns around. "Oh shit."

They advance on us way too quickly.

And then one removes the lower face-mask, opens its ugly mouth, and makes some sort of squelching, lippy sound, a series of clicks and something like a dolphin whistle.

Alright, Deadpool activated.

"Where's the bathroom?" I fake-translate. "Really? You're asking us where the bathroom is? At a time like this?" I point behind them. "It's back that way, dick nuggets!"

Silence. Dare I say - the sound of silence. (I KNOW, I know…)

"You were hoping they'd turn around and give us a chance to run, weren't you?" Crystal moans.

"Yes. Yes I was."

Absolutely no time to panic, but we manage, because we are goddamn professionals. We're panicking, in the point three seconds it takes for the Avengers to accurately respond to our ill-timed shouting from before.

Tony Stark at one end, Peter Parker at the other. I feel a slap of web, like getting shot with a water balloon and having the pieces stick, all over my upper body. Then I'm yanked haphazardly in one direction, while Tony Stark gracefully flies in at fifty miles an hour, plucks Crystal right off the roof, and zooms off in the other direction.

"HOLY SHIIIIIEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAA…" My curse descends into one pure scream of fear and vertigo. I don't do heights. Nope, never. But plummeting down at unknown speeds, even clinging to an exceptionally sticky string safely attached to the end of Peter Parker's wrist shooter, still brings out the absolute worst in me.

The line pulls taught, the cold wind strings like bees in my eyes, and I'm swung as easily as a rope-and-tire swing over a summer river. It plops me just as gently on a balcony as if I'd flown in on my own non-existent superpowers. I sink to my knees with a groan. I hate heights so much.

Spiderman's head appears, upside down, over the roof of the balcony.

"Hey," I say in a raspy voice, "Dear, sweet child. Will you please tell Mr. Stark, just in case she forgets to because his armored arms just saved her life and that's just a little romantic and distracting - that Crystal IS the key?"

"SHE IS?" Spiderman squeaks. "That makes a lot of sense, actually! I'll tell him! You okay?"

I avoid touching the web stuck all over my sweatshirt and get back on my feet. "I'm GOOD, I just can't do heights. And I feel like I'm covered in maple syrup."

Peter opens his mouth to explain.

"I know," I groan, "It'll dissolve in two hours."

"How do YOU KNOW TH - No, never-mind - Just stay here! You'll be safe!"

He thwip, thwips back off the roofline and charges headlong into the battle again.

"Wait!" I call after him, running up to the balcony railing. "Where'd Stark put my friend?!"

Before I accidentally stick myself to the wall, I very carefully unzip the sweatshirt, fold it in on itself so none of the webbed areas are exposed, and tuck it under my arm.

Something catches my eye across the street - a pair of waving arms.

"MAAAAAAYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" she screams.

Crystal!

"OOOOHHHH HEEEEEYYYYYYY GUUURLFRAAAN!" I scream back.

Stark had deposited Crystal literally across the street from me, on a matching balcony, in another skyscraper. We're still a good twenty stories off the ground, but now, the battle is going on above us, not below.

There's a lot more smoke than there was before.

"DOTHETHINKTHEGONNAWUNGFORDSKEAMER?" I can barely hear her voice over the sounds of screaming and traffic and sirens below on the street, and the battles above.

I tap my ear. "WHAT?"

"I-SAID-DO-THEY-THINK-THEY'RE…"

A massive bellow from the pissed off green-bean drowns out Crystal's voice.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" I scream.

Suddenly I spot something dark emerge out of the doors right behind Crystal.

"BEHIND YOU!" I point and scream like a maniac, waving my arms wildly and otherwise losing my absolute shit.

Crystal whirls around, immediately stumbling to the side, avoiding whomever is stepping out onto the balcony beside her, but also giving me a line of sight so I can see what -

Or who.

A glint of sunlight catches the metal of the Winter Soldier's arm.

I can't quite hear him, but I can read his lips well enough.

"Crystal?" he asks, holding out a hand, worried that she's about to fall over backwards. "Don't worry," he says. "Stark sent me."

...

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 **Coming next: Don't you think a victory is long overdue?**


	8. The One Where We Win

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...

 **Dearest Readers,**

This has been such a fun ride! I am glad you are all enjoying. One last chapter (after this one) to wrap this lil' baby up!

 **-Pip**

...

* * *

 **The One Where We Win**

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...

"AWWW frick, it's Bucky Barnes," I fangirl, and I am cursing every poor writer's decision and self-digging from plotholes that I cannot be across the street to witness Crystal's reaction first-hand. From the expression on her face, it's probably the best thing that I will never get to experience up close.

I can see her wave and point in my direction.

Bucky holds up a single black-gloved hand in reply, waving hello.

I feel like I could just die happy now. The Winter Soldier just waved at me from across the street. It's better than the time I yelled at Ezra Miller across the empty autograph booth at comic con.

Then I see Bucky urge Crystal to go back into the room he just stepped through. She very hesitantly agrees, sneaking a peak back at me over the street to see what I'm doing. I see Bucky make a shush motion and slide the balcony door shut behind her.

Well duh. The Avengers put their best man in charge of defending her. Cuz she's the frick fracking key. The one with the knowledge. And that's why the Dravec want her - either for their own use, or dead, I don't know. Bucky is the literal guard dog and he would fight to the death to protect her.

Dude, how cool is that?! She's like, an actual ASSET to the team? Like Banner's degrees, Spidey's web, Vision's mind, Hawkeye's resting bitch face…

I was here to point out that she's the key and use the google translator, but other than that, I'm guessing at this point it's safe to be a spectator? My work here is complete.

Doing what spectators do, I look up at the battle again, flinching at one of the prism-ships balking and turning sideways, beginning a slow, crooked descent down towards the city street. One of the engines must be out - strange, red veins glitter through the solid black panels of the ship, the reflective panels definitely not working. The veins grow bright, cherry red, then turn dark scarlet, and then disappear altogether, leaving the falling ship solid black.

Dare I say - painted black?

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll stop.

It's bringing it closer and closer to the floor-level where I wait. Maybe I should go inside too? Would that help?

(Not if it bumps into the side of the building on the way down, my brain says)

Bucky braces himself on the balcony, prepared for Dravec to jump out of the ship and leap for him at any moment. It's getting closer and closer.

But then two things happen.

One, something black and slinky literally runs up the wall beside the balcony I'm using. I spy a brief glimpse of slim legs and clawed fingers before a lithe shape of a man wearing cat ears somersaults off the glass windows and lands on the falling ship.

"Eartha Kitt!" I cheer with absolutely delighted sarcasm as Black Panther crouches on top of the ship, nearly blending into the sleek black design.

And then the second thing happens.

Dark clouds rumble suddenly overhead, lowering and bumbling against each other like someone over at the BBC nature documentary studio suddenly realized we needed a little dramatic weather and hit the cue button, followed immediately by fast-forward.

Crystal bursts out of the balcony doors again, sliding that door open like her life depends on it. She heard the thunder and not even Bucky's swift urges to go back inside and hide will deter her. She waves at me again, and I wave back. We're both screaming and pointing with fangirl excitement, but, the thunder drowns out our voices.

Out of the matte-gray clouds comes the god-like figure of Thor, hair short, eyepatch in place, red cape flapping out behind him almost as if his mother doth know that he weareth her drapes.

They do something entirely unexpected. The ship still higher, the one in use, suddenly breaks entirely in half, Vision emerging from the pieces like Jack Skellington rising out of the town well. As the giant ass pieces plummet down, Thor lands on one, riding it down like a surfboard, crackling lightning bolts flickering and darting around his legs, arms, and then finally, his one good eye turns bright white.

He slides up the broken piece of the ship, grabbing the metal with his hands, and swings it up and over his head to bring it down on the ship where T'Challa waits.

BOOM!

The explosion of lightning and red scarlet veins splaying out of the prism pieces plume out with a mushroom cloud and a shockwave, one right after the other. I barely dive into the door of the balcony, landing face-first into the empty office to avoid getting shoved down by the waves anyway.

I look up just in time to see the Black Panther absorb the energy from the explosion, and then Thor literally catches him in midair, grabs him by the arm, and throws him back up into the air. The last Dravec inside the building, that weren't on either of the failing and splintering ships, are waiting for him.

I shake myself off and run back to the view point so I can watch.

T'Challa lands on the exposed, ruined window of Avengers tower where we had been sitting so calmly about - ten minutes ago? It feels like weeks!

The Black Panther claws come out, and all the Avengers engage with the last remaining Dravec - the ones that fled the roof after Crystal and I got rescued, and the ones inside the tower. Below, pieces of ship land on the street with fiery explosions - luckily the area had been cleared by police, and barriers set up at least two blocks away.

Below on the street, a few surviving Dravec stumble out of their ruined ships. Hawkeye, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch, and Iron Patriot are waiting for them.

The fights are brief, violent, disgusting. Wanda literally uses her psionic powers to tear one of the Dravec in half. Natasha climbs up the back of one, stabbing a knife down into it's red eye socket. Above, Tony and Sam Wilson manage to each yank an arm, and before the knife from the wrists emerge, they each engage their rockets - ripping the arms of the Dravec right off. Thor is throwing lightning bolts like Percy Jackson on steroids. Captain America kicks one right off the edge, and it falls for a painfully long time, shrieking, until splattering below. Peter is still webbing right and left, getting them stuck and sticky so that others with more deadly weapons can move in.

They're winning. They're actually winning!

If Crystal hadn't been here, just how many of them would have gone for closer-hand-to-hand combat and would have gotten a knife through the neck or skull? Or had been shot from a distance from the plasma thingies?

Suddenly, a sitcom-like voice chirps from directly beside me.

"Don't you just LOVE the smell of heroes in the morning?"

"JESUS HENRY CHRIST!" I scream in absolute terror. My knees lock and I collapse in a heap. Yes, sometimes I react like a fainting goat to extreme jumpscares.

I stare up at Ant-Man, who went from a literal speck in my peripheral vision to suddenly standing over me with a humble-brag expression.

Scott Lang. The Man, the Legend, the tiny acidic speck of bugdom himself.

"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT," I scream at him, "YOU EFFING PICNIC JAWA!"

"Did you just call me a PICNIC JAWA?" Scott replies, his mouth falling open. "What does that even MEAN?"

"Oh, come on!" I groan. "I can't believe I wasted that line on you. I think I'll use it for Deadpool later. Yeah. Deadpool can have it."

"I'm sorry I scared you! That was my bad!"

"You don't just sneak up on girls who save the Avengers arses!"

"You? YOU saved the Avenger's arse… asses?"

"No, but I would very much like to think I am integral to the girl who DID save their arses!"

"Why do you keep saying ARSE? Are you British?"

"Why are you even in here?"

"I'm your guard! I've been sent!" He puffs out his chest. "By CAPTAIN AMERICA."

"You should have been here a long time ago. Spiderman has already saved my ass twice."

"Oh, so you CAN say ass?"

"Don't be jealous because a better bug did your job."

"I'm not jealous."

"For the record, ants always ruin picnics, and jawas collect and steal junk, and you were a thief, henceforth, Picnic Jawa."

"Ohhhhh I get it now. Subtle. Very nice." Scott gives me a bewildered look. "Who the hell are you and why am I in charge of guarding you?"

Suddenly the door into the office swings open with a bang, and Crystal runs through, Bucky hot on her heels. Oh, and he was running, too. (wink)

"I convinced him to come over here!" Crystal exclaims, and I throw my arms around her for a big hug.

"DON'T EVER LEAVE ME AGAIN!" I yell.

"I'M SORRY!"

"So is SHE the one that saved the Avenger's arses?" Scott asks confusedly. "No - asses. Wait. Damnit." He looks at Bucky. "Sup man." He holds out his fist for a fist bump.

Bucky looks at his fist confusedly. Gives it a hesitant bump.

"It's a thing that people do," Scott bemoans.

"TELL ME EVERYTHING I MISSED," I command.

"Okay, so - you saw him right? Popping out from behind me - like daisies!" Crystal narrates vividly. "So he says that Stark called him in ages ago, and he just got here, his objective was to protect me…"

"It's not a Mary Sue if someone else writes it," I give a smirk over Crystal's shoulder. Like Deadpool breaking the fourth wall. Looking at a white wall but picturing you. Yes, you. The reader. Yes, I'm talking to you.

Okay, keep scrolling.

"The Dravec want her dead," Bucky explains to Scott. "She knows too much about them. They don't want anyone to know their weaknesses. She poses just as much danger to them as Thor does."

I glance back at you, reader. Grab your pitchforks and torches if you must. It's her goddamn birthday.

"Wow," Scott exclaims. "That's - totally awful and terrible, I shouldn't be smiling, but hey," he reaches over to shake Crystal's hand. "Big fan."

Oh my god, he thinks she's another Avenger that he hasn't met yet.

"This is the best thing that's ever happened to me," I sigh.

Crystal shakes Scott's hand, eyes huge. "Um, likewise," she says. "Seriously. Uh. Big fan. Yeah. You're one of my favorites to write." She stops. "Um. Write… I mean. Study."

It got worse.

"I mean," she pauses.

"To help me write fan letters," I say in a high-pitched voice. "I'm the freaky fangirl, she's the writer. She helps transcribe my totally immature fan letters. I've been sending them to the Avengers Tower address for years. YEARS."

Bucky and Scott both stare at us.

"It's cool when you start out a fan and then get called in to help," I say to Scott. "Isn't that right?"

"Well, I mean," Scott puffs out his chest a bit, "When Captain America needs help…"

"If Captain America needs help, he needs it," Bucky finishes.

"I was gonna say - he calls Ant-Man," Scott mumbles.

There's a deep roll of thunder.

"Maybe I should go check on them," Scott says worriedly.

"Do that," Bucky replies, "I'll watch over the girls."

Watch over us? Or marry us both? I can see why he'd mix that up.

Scott dashes back in, looking wide-eyed and confused.

"Okay, so," he says breathlessly, "Not only does the battle look partially resolved, but there's also... a genie."

Crystal and I both burst into laughter. "Dr. Strange," we reply in unison.

This time, we get to hi-five.

...

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 **Coming next: The long overdue conclusion!**


	9. The One Where We Say Goodbye

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 **Dearest Readers,**

 **Thank you so much for joining Crystal and I on this fun trip! We love your reviews and we love you!**

 **-Pip**

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The One In Which We Say Goodbye

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I never thought an elevator ride with Winter Soldier and Ant-Man would be so awkward.

It's beyond awkward. Bucky isn't much of a conversationalist, and Scott is doing it just a little too much.

"I'm not saying I'm benched, exactly, not when you're given a specific task from Captain America, but when I got here the battle was fairly wrapped up, I'm just saying there might have been a little less damage if they had called a little earlier…"

"Weren't you coming here from San Francisco?" Bucky asks dryly.

"Boston."

"Okay," Bucky says shortly. He doesn't ask why, and I don't think he cares.

"Does anyone have any ORANGE SLICES?" I whisper to Crystal.

"Welcome to Baskin Robbins," she replies back, giggling.

Scott shoots us a funny look. "What'd you say about Baskin Robbins?"

"I… like ice cream," Crystal answers politely.

"And it's her BIRTHDAY," I point out.

"No kidding!" Scott grins at her. "Happy birthday!"

"Oh, gee, thanks," Crystal replies shyly. "Not - uh, exactly the birthday I was picturing, but…"

"At least you have a break from your stalker!" I laugh.

Bucky's head jolts in our direction. "You have a what?" His eyes have that overly-protected I'm about to shoot someone expression.

"Oh, no, no, not like, a real stalker!" Crystal exclaims. "Just a lot of unexpected gifts showing up."

Scott looks concerned and then glances up at the ceiling suddenly, as if a reminder appeared in a cartoon word bubble. "But, it's your birthday!"

"That's what Tasha and My… Pip keep saying!" Crystal laughs.

"Oh, you know Black Widow, too?" Scott exclaims. "It's not fair, how come I'm only just meeting you today? I know they're not trying to leave me out, exactly…"

"You live in San Francisco," reminds Bucky. "You could move out here when the complex is finished."

"Unlike you strapping young bucks," Scott replies, "I have a daughter to provide for."

DING!

The elevator doors slide open, and we're instantly hacking and coughing. The entire downstairs lobby of this building is thick with smoke.

"Shit," Bucky says.

"Do you think one of the downed ships set something on fire?" I ask.

"This isn't safe to breathe without a ventilator or a mask - put your - put your shirt up, over your nose," Bucky says quickly.

I try not to pout at being told not to talk. Crystal pulls the edge of her cute Target sweater over the edge of her nose. I pull my green T shirt over too. It's really too thin to do much good, the sweatshirt would have been better, but it's covered with spider-web and balled up under one arm.

DING! The doors shut again, and the elevator rests.

"You can't wait in here for me to scout ahead and make sure it's safe," Bucky says urgently. "You'd run out of oxygen too quickly." All business, he puts one arm around Crystal's shoulders. "We're going to run through, head low, and get to the exit quickly," he says. "If you hear any shooting, or if I say drop, drop, if I say run, keep going exactly where you think the exit will be, got it?"

Crystal is turning bright, bright red. "Y-yeah. Yup. Yeeeep. Okay," she says in a muffled voice from inside her sweatshirt. Luckily she is concealing half her fangirling by having her mouth covered, but there's no hiding that her eyes just went from realistic to Disney Princess size.

Scott rests his elbow on my shoulder like I'm a nearby shelf.

"Picnic jawa," I whisper venomously.

"Are you always this pleasant or is it just because I'm from the west coast?" he responds.

"I'm from the west coast," I say dryly.

"LANG!" Bucky snaps. "If there's any sign of the Dravec, go small."

"Here's a thought," I say, "Crawl into his ear canal and then go giganto. You'd literally explode him from the inside. That could be cool."

"There is something seriously wrong with you," Scott replies.

Bucky hits the door button again, his grip around Crystal's shoulders tight and protective. She gives me a side eye. I grin at her and give her a thumbs up.

DING!

The door slides open again.

Running with heads bent low, Bucky and Crystal move quickly and with military-like precision out the door, keeping close to the wall on the left, and Scott and I follow.

Bucky keeps tabs on her, literally the ideal security detail. He makes sure that she sticks close beside him, checks every corner -

"DOWN!" he suddenly shouts, and down she goes. I throw myself onto the floor beside her, and the Scott beside me is suddenly non existent, but a tiny black speck zooms into the smoke.

A huge beam of that plasma shit appears out of the bellowing, pluming smoke, blasting with molten heat into the wall above our heads. Chunks of drywall and dust sprinkle down on us like someone with allergies snorting cocaine.

Snow. I mean falling like snow. That's a better metaphor.

I've been writing too much Deadpool lately.

Bucky has withdrawn a huge, retrofitted military-grade Israeli assault rifle from his back like it's just no big deal and has begun firing into the smoke, and then advances forward, quickly swallowed by the gray.

We had clapped our hands over our ears because of the gunfire, but now, we could easily crawl on our elbows. We reach the edge of what is probably a wide, gray-linoleum lobby, crawl up three steps, and then clamber up towards a pair of wide, double doors to the sidewalk outside.

From behind us there's another burst of energy, and a window somewhere shatters. Purple-ish light erupts from inside the smoke, like trying to watch a thunderstorm in the fog.

Crystal and I each push a door open, and search for something to leave them open with. The porch is line with bricks, so we each grab too and try to brace the doors. The doors are almost too heavy, so it takes a few bricks.

But at this point, the smoke has begun to siphon out into the street, finally released, like an inverted waterfall pooling out under the doorframe and ascending to the sky.

Suddenly, Iron-Man swoops down and lands with a asphalt-splintering BOOM right between us. We both screech and jump.

"What are you DOING?" he demands.

"Holding the doors open for Bucky and Scott," Crystal exclaims. "There's a Dravec hiding in there somewhere!"

"Listen, do me a solid, Godsend, and go find Thor, tell him he's your babysitter," from inside the Iron-Man mask, those robotic blue lenses are actually quite intimidating. Then he points at me. "You, jester, get her there. Got it?"

"SIR YES SIR," I scream back gutterly like a middle aged man in a Mel Gibson war film. I turn to Crystal. "TAKE MY HAND!"

She slams her hand in my own without question. "OKAY!"

Iron-Man looks like he's about to lose a cog in those robotic workings of his. The repulsors in his palms and calves and feet light up with that metallic squeal, and he flies right into the smoke pouring out of the building.

Crystal and I run back down the sidewalk, avoiding massive pieces of downed ship, splintered into huge triangular shapes piercing the cement like there was a really intense ninja-star battle recently between giants. We pause by one of the broken wings, leaning against it for a moment, and peering around.

Crystal suddenly jumps back, and puts a finger to her lips. Points over her shoulder around the wing and whispers Dravec.

I make a slicing motion across my throat. Dead? I ask.

She shakes her head no.

Oh, shit.

"The ones that went back in the building," Crystal whispers. "I think some of them slipped out and came down, spread out…"

"Is it in the ship?" I ask.

"It's on the other side, pulling a weapon out of the wreckage…" Crystal sneaks another peak, and then falls back again, eyes huge. "It's gone."

"So which horror film is it, do you think," I ask. "Behind us, or above us?"

Crystal gives me a pained expression. "Definitely above us."

We slowly look up at the top of the broken ship we're hiding beside, right into the horrible, half-masked face of the Dravec. It's eyes are so red, they look like they are bleeding.

It's got a weapon pointed right at us.

"Why did you have to write such scary villains?" I ask weakly.

"I am a sick person, and I love it," responds Crystal way too cheerfully, grinning like we totally aren't about to die. Clearly she knows something I don't. I mean, she usually does, but even more so, right now.

I feel a blast of hot breath against my back.

"The Hulk is behind me isn't he," I say dryly.

"Yup!" Crystal shoves my shoulders down and we both drop to the street. I ungracefully roll out of the way, Crystal army crawls, and we skirt around the edge of the broken wing just as the Hulk flying over our heads, grabbing the Dravec's rifle, and pointing it up to the sky.

It makes a shrieky, frog-like scream, shooting at nothing, struggling to regain its hold.

The Hulk lets out such a huge, ridiculous, roar of anger that we feel it vibrating in our chests through the cement. They begin to grapple in the worst, but also literally the best, hand-to-giant-hand wrestling I've ever seen. They both fall off the metal on the other side, pounding into the cement, cracking it open. The Hulk growls ferociously, manages to get the head of the Dravec in one hand, and begins to pound it mercilessly into the screet. The other hand isn't quite so lucky, the Dravec lets loose the wrist-blade, which skirts just by the Hulk's forearm, nearly slicing it through. It glances off the surface, luckily, which only pisses him off even more.

"Go go go go go go!" I scream at nothing in particular. We emerge on the other side of the wreckage, and then break into a run. "TAKE MY HAND!" I scream again.

"Gah!" Crystal gives me her hand, and we skid around the corner of a fallen chunk of building that had come down several towards from where the window had been blasted out of Avengers tower. Chunks of plaster and metal still smoke, and rivulets of heat pour from it like a mirage on a hot day.

I skid to a stop.

Thor, God of Thunder and son of Odin, stands before us. One arm holding the hammer, and other hanging loosely at his side. He looks down at us with surprise.

"HERE," I say loudly. "Tony Stark wanted me to give this to you." I take his hand, put Crystal's in it, and then rush around them and go tearing down the street as fast as my legs can take me. She can't protest if I disappear too quickly, hehehehee!

I can FEEL Crystal's gaze pelting my back as I slow to a jog, and then turn around, and hold my arms out like I'm addressing an audience. "It's YOUR GODDAMN BIRTHDAY!" I screech at her.

Thor is just looking down at her hand in his, confusedly.

"YOU!" I shout.

He looks at me. God, he is so hot.

"She's THE KEY," I scream. "So you got to protect her with your LIFE!"

Thor's eyes grow big with understanding and he nods, holding up her hand like a coach congratulating a young football player before a crowd.

Suddenly, I feel something hard knock into my knees, unlocking them, and I go face first into the sidewalk. "Son of a bitch!" I exclaim, pulling back and rolling onto my back. "OUCH!"

Spider-Man goes swooping again overhead, shoving a huge Dravec away and back down the street. Seriously? I mean I get the whole damsel in distress thing but if he's going to keep manhandling me I'll accidentally get killed from being saved!

Wait…

"Hey, anyone," calls Peter. "A little - help - would be nice!"

"I am under strict orders to not leave this brave young woman unguarded," Thor calls out pleasantly to him. "You are doing splendidly, though. Maybe a little more on your left."

Spider-Man does a quick flipperoo in mid-air, kicking out with one leg, catching the Dravec in the jaw. It roars and stumbles back, the mask falling from the lower half of its face.

"CRYSTAL," I shout, "Why did you write them SO UGLY?"

"NEXT TIME I'LL WRITE BEAUTIFUL ALIENS," she snarks back.

Thor beams down at her. "It is fortunate then that you have met one now, yes?"

"Huh? What? Yes?" Crystal stutters. "I mean - wait - yes. No. Oh my."

Black Panther falls out from a ledge above, swiftly jamming his legs right into the Dravec's collarbones on his way down (wait, do Dravecs HAVE collarbones?!) and bringing him down with him the rest of the way. Suit already glittering purple from the kinetic energy absorbed in the fall, his claws glitter with color in the black like a night sky, grabs the Dravec's head, and twists aggressively.

Just as a web from Spider-Man clings to the top of the Dravec's head and tugs.

With a pop, the head comes right off.

"Jesus CHRIST," I erupt, covering my eyes just at the right second. I didn't need to see the actual beheading, but holy shit, I could hear it.

"EW!" Crystal shrieks.

Thor instructs her grandly. "My apologies, I should have led you away from the battle the moment the tiny thing told me what Stark wanted. Come!" he tugs on her hand. "Let's move out of the street into a safe place."

"You okay?" Spider-Man calls down to me in mid-swing.

"I mean other than knocking me face-first into the cement, it's fine, thanks," I snap back, rubbing my forehead. There's a red scrape across my face now like a road rash. Not the first time this has happened but I had definitely hoped that was the last.

"Sorry!" He says sincerely.

I get up and brush myself off.

"PICNIC JAWA, REPORTING FOR DUTY!" screams Scott Lang in my ear, suddenly expanding to real size in real time.

"FUHHHH… LUCK. LUCKY DAY," I censor myself last minute. "You've GOT to stop doing that to me!"

"Okay, well, not ONE, but TWO Dravec were waiting to ambush us in the smoke," Scott replies. "So I think a little gratitude is in order."

"Thank you for saving our lives," I say sincerely. "But it makes no difference if you give me a heart attack afterwards!"

Bucky jogs up quickly, a panicked expression in his eyes. "Did you LOSE her?!" he demands of me.

"YOU LOST HER FIRST," I exclaim, pointing over his shoulder. "Look, she's perfectly safe, she's with Thor."

Bucky turns and immediately leaves Scott and I alone, focused entirely on his primary directive.

I slyly get out my phone and text Crystal a gif of Bucky from Winter Soldier saying You're my mission!

Her phone buzzes across the street, she glances at it worriedly, and then I cackle with delight when she turns beat red again, looks at me, and then back at Bucky, who stands in front of her and begins to speak urgently.

"Let's get you back into the tower," Bucky says.

"Yeah, sure," Crystal replies nervously. "Thank you, for um, earlier. I appreciate it. Really."

Bucky looks surprised to be thanked, and a warmness appears in his expression that wasn't there before. "You're welcome," he says firmly. "Now let's go. It's not safe out here, not yet. Not if there's any more that slipped away the first time."

"Negative on that," calls Iron-Man, landing in the middle of the street. "Right?"

"No more live Dravec," Rhodey says, landing beside him. His helmet flips up and a huge gun that was over his shoulder lifts too, retracts, and disappears into a metal-looking box on his back. "We won."

Peter lowers himself from his hanging web to the street besides T'Challa. From the lower first-floor doors of the Avengers tower, I see Steve, Clint, and Sam emerge. Sam looks great. Clint has a black eye.

Steve looks only a little winded.

The Hulk is standing at the opposite end of the street, pieces of defeated Dravec dripping in his hands. Natasha emerges from the alleyway between the two buildings, carrying a pair of pants and a sweatshirt in her hands. She begins to approach him slowly. "Hey big guy," she says.

Crystal and I give each other a look, and mouth at the same time, Sun's gettin' reaaaal low!

"This is nice," Scott erupts. "We won! Hi everyone! It's been awhile!"

"Sup, dude," Sam says dryly.

"Hi, Mr. Ant… Man. Mr. Ant-Man," Peter says with uncertainty.

"You can call me Scott," he replies.

"Hey, that's Mr. Scott," I correct.

"No, NO, NO," Tony Stark's visor pops up. "You," he points at me. "No pop culture references. Not even Star Trek. None. Zip. I've had enough to last me a lifetime. You," he points at Peter Parker. "You too. Nada."

"I didn't SAY any," he protests.

"What am I supposed to do with The Key," Thor gestures grandly to Crystal beside him. "Is she still in danger? Shall I take her back with me to Asgard?"

"ASGARD," repeats Crystal.

"Hey, that's Godsend to you, uh… Godson," I flail in my joke lamely. But I also feel my eyes grow wide with fear. If we are in an alternate universe with Asgard still alive and well, how long does it take before Ragnarok happens?

"I don't think I should go to Asgard," Crystal says quickly, thinking the same thing.

Suddenly, a Dravec body comes flying out of the broken hole in the building. It's clearly dead, but that doesn't stop gasps and a few leaping motions backwards to avoid the massive body plunging into the street. It lies there, crumpled, and very much dead.

Wanda and Vision appear on the ledge above, looking down at their handiwork.

"You missed one," Wanda deadpans.

Natasha approaches again, one arm looped around Bruce Banner's waist. He looks a little crooked and limping a bit, but otherwise fine, looking relieved to be wearing pants and a sweatshirt and being very much human again.

"Eet is fortunate," Black Panther croons in that unbelievably sexy accent of his, the sandy edge of his mask unfolding from his face and retracting into the panther-claw necklace. "That I was heah for the meeting today aneeweh."

"We didn't plan this in advance," Steve says tiredly. "We can… still have the meeting."

"Who helps clean up this mess?" Peter runs over helpfully and picks up a massive chunk of broken cement like it weighs nothing. "Where should I put this?"

"Leave it to the professionals, kid," Tony Stark replies. "The DODC is at work already. Look." he points past the edge of the police barrier, where media and crowds try to push in behind them and take pictures over their shoulders. Part of the roadblocks had been shifted aside for huge trucks to start driving through, the open truck beds empty and awaiting load up of the rubble and dead Dravec bodies.

They look ripe for stealing, if you ask me. I wonder if the Vulture exists in this universe and if he plans on robbing that convoy later and collecting Plasma guns for himself.

"Oh," Peter says. "You sure?"

"Positive," Tony replies.

Peter sets the piece of cement down. On second thought, he picks it back up, walks it to the nearest truck, and carefully shoves it up and over his shoulders to slide onto the flat truck bed.

"Might as well," he mutters to himself. "I was already halfway there."

Vision calls down from the tower. "I suggest we meet immediately," he says urgently. "We should get the children out of the street."

I look around for additional children other than Peter. There aren't any.

"For the last time," I groan. "We're not children."

"Show us your ID inside and we'll discuss," Clint says smugly, holding up his bow in a kind of I've stopped giving all the damns and turning to walk back inside.

We start to file in behind them, and behind us, the trucks engines roar and the hydraulics of lifting machinery attached to the back, sort of like caterpillars with giant claws, begin to pick up the pieces of wreckage.

The dead Dravec bodies are a horrible sight to behold.

"Do you think we'll get Shawarma?" I ask, hanging back so I can walk side by side with Crystal.

"Do you think they'll send us home now?" Crystal replies. "What if Dr. Strange never shows up again and we're stuck here? What if this is our life now?"

"All the running and the screaming?"

"Yup. Definitely that."

"Dude if anything else from your universe comes out…"

"Like Venom?" Crystal whispers.

"We will DIE," I whisper back. "The Dravec are scary enough. And what about your version of… uh… a certain VILLAIN that may or may not be spoilers for future books…"

"Dude," Crystal exclaims. "NO."

"Right?!"

"YES," Crystal reponds. "That would be VERY BAD."

"Agreed, especially with the," I tap my forehead and glance over the backs of the Avengers immediately in front of us.

"Exactly," Crystal nods.

"Okay, first of all, how do either of you even understand what the other person is saying?" Tony Stark looks over his shoulder at us.

The spacious lobby of Avengers tower, looking a little bit littered with rubble and battle damage, encloses us with pleasant temperatures and a nice smell. Sort of like Disneyland.

"We've been around the block a few times," Crystal responds cryptically. Crystiplically. Crypstickley?

In the main, wide lobby, painted clean-white with a bit of faux-marble gold inlaid where it counts, there's a sort of sunken living room - or waiting room, I guess. Huge dark blue couches face each other in huge L shapes, glass coffee tables between them and small wooden end-tables with plants on them. It feels like a really, really fancy hotel lobby with the white-light decor of a overly fluorescent make-up store at the mall.

Everyone begins to take a seat with tired sighs. People fall naturally together. Steve and Sam. Tony and Rhodey. Natasha and Bruce. Thor and T'Challa. Wanda and Vision enter from the lower doors at the far end to join us, greeted with grateful nods and tired hellos from the rest of the team.

Crystal and I stand uncomfortably, arms hooked together, unsure of where to sit. Scott sits down beside Clint.

I think Bucky was hoping to sit next to Crystal. He has technically not been relieved of duty in any way, in fact, he's still standing uncomfortably like a guard dog, watching everyone, the doors, and windows, the lower half of a fancy-looking escalator around the corner of large, beam-supporting pillars.

Peter is left with a gap on his right side, which he quickly pats the cushion invitingly. "You can sit with me," he whispers cheerfully.

Crystal and I sit down quickly before it's too obvious that we were wondering what the hell we were supposed to do from the beginning.

"Ookay, so I'm gonna need you to run the story from the top once more," Tony says to us. "Underoos told me that you're the key."

Crystal nods. "I guess I am!"

"So how'd you find that out?"

"Dr. Strange called her, uh…" I look at T'Challa. "What's the word for Key in Wakandan again?"

"Ngundoqo," T'Challa replies with ease.

"We googled it," I add shyly. "You see, in our universe, Crystal is literally the only person who has studied and written about the Dravec. That's what makes her the key. She's the only reason any of you would know before fighting them what they were, what their purpose is, and where they store those weapon-thingys in the wrist."

"So they wanted you dead," Tony sighs, looking like he has a headache. "So why the hell would Doc bring you HERE? That's completely irresponsible…"

"Necessary," says Dr. Strange's voice. "One I shall quickly rectify. I've come to take you home."

We all look over beside the couches, where Dr. Strange stands once again in front of a twirling golden circle of sparks, yawning black and uninviting behind him.

"Today's outcome was much different without her presence here," Dr. Strange says clinically. "I… I admit I was privy to a future in which the losses did not justify my powers to exist without making use of the timestone."

Tony stands up, walks towards him aggressively. "Meaning?"

Steve stands up too. "Easy, Tony."

"Meaning," Dr. Strange says calmly, "You asked me to do it."

Tony looks a little subdued now. "You say in some other future, I asked you to go back and change what happened," he says doubtfully. "That must have been one hell of a future."

"More than half of you," Dr. Strange addresses us over Tony's shoulder. "No longer had a future to concern yourselves with."

"Well," Tony says uncomfortably. He looks back at Peter, then Steve. He knows precisely why he would ask Dr. Strange to go back and reverse time. Because in whatever future that was, Steve and Peter - either or both - probably didn't make it out alive. "I stand by what I said, then," he says humbly. "We owe you our thanks, Ms. Queen."

"Oh," Crystal blushes. "Oh, it was… it was nothing."

"It was NOT nothing," I say. "N'gun-doko!"

"Ngundoqo," T'Challa corrects. He does the proper click with his tongue.

"That's what I said, nuggin-ducko," I say. Peter and Scott both snort.

"I have breached many creeds that one must maintain to be the keeper of the timestone," Dr. Strange says carefully. "I'm… I'm afraid there may be some fall out for this. For their safety, I should take them back."

"Boo," I sigh unhappily.

"You can come visit anytime," Peter says.

"We might need a portable magical portal to do that," I remind him.

"Let me put it this way," Steve looks at us. "If you are ever in need of any help, anything at all, please find a way to contact us. We'll be there if we can."

"We owe you a great debt," Vision adds.

"Oh gee," I giggle.

"Thank you," Crystal says. "Um… I guess. Bye everyone. It was really, really nice to meet you."

Everyone mutters and murmurs variations of thank you's and good luck and see ya around.

Dr. Strange beckons us forward. We leave the couch and go up the three steps, standing uncomfortably at the portal entrance. It smells sort of cold and empty inside, and we glance at each other.

"One second, Godsend," Tony says, and Crystal turns around with a shy smile. He holds out his hand, and she reaches forward hesitantly. He shakes it firmly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Crystal stutters. "Really. Yeah. Anytime. Seriously."

Tony reaches out his hand and shakes mine as well. I feel an odd crinkle of paper in my palm, and I quickly close my fist over it. Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit...

"Bye everybody!" I wave past Tony with my other hand. I zero in on Peter Parker. "Big fan, for real," I point at him like I'm a soccer player that just made a big score and I'm reaching out to someone I know in the audience.

"Bye everyone," Crystal repeats. "It was… um, really so nice to meet you all in person, finally!"

Dr. Strange slams a firm hand on our shoulders. "All right, time to go."

"How is it that you can time travel but you're always in a hurry?" I ask annoyingly.

The last thing I hear before he shoves me headfirst into the portal is a bark of chuckles from most of the Avengers, and suddenly, with a raised hand and a look from Tony, they all scream;

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

...

I land face-first into a pile of my laundry on my bedroom floor. I look around, glance at my phone. Maybe only about twenty minutes has passed in my time. The lighting has not changed much through the window. I feel so weird, stepping out of this, feeling like nothing happened, except everything happened - kind of like coming back from vacation and finding everything exactly how you left it, when really, somehow you expected it to be different. Which it really shouldn't be unless your house got robbed while you were gone.

The portal has slammed shut behind me with a whoosh of air, and relieved silence. No more yawning, sucking portals that smell like interdimensional disaster.

My phone buzzes and I quickly open up a message from Crystal. It's a photo of her hand, and nestled in her palm is a tiny little silver object. It looks like a small metal key, with a familiar looped shape on the head.

I press the call button.

"HOLY SCHMIDT," I say when she answers.

"This is the thing you mentioned," Crystal is nearly laugh-crying. "The zodiac key. Isn't it?"

"HOW DID YOU GET THAT?"

"I just fell into my bedroom floor," Crystal says.

"Same here."

"And I had this in my pocket," Crystal explains. "Dr. Strange slipped it to me somehow between the Tower and falling in here!"

"But what the hell for?" I ask. "Is he trying to make you more of a target?!"

"We don't have the targeting people HERE, silly," Crystal reminds me. "I bet he gave it to me because he knows I can keep it safe!"

"It's a lot bigger in the comics," I say.

"I think it's been tampered with by the Pym technology," Crystal says. "It feels like the mini version."

"That makes sense."

"HOLY SCHMIDT," Crystal erupts. "WHY DID HE GIVE ME THE ZODIAC KEY?"

"You should always keep keys together," I say.

"Ha ha, very funny!"

"How Dr. Strange ended up with it, that's another question," I muse. "And what exactly does he plan to do with it in the future?"

"I don't know!" wails Crystal. "This is so ridiculous! Does he just want me to, you know, hang on to this for awhile, until it is needed?"

"Here's my theory," I say. "I think he wants you to hang onto it until he needs you again."

Silence.

"Oh MY," Crystal answers.

"Oh YES," I respond.

I can hear her fangirling over the phone, and some shouting of my name downstairs. "Holy Schmidt!"

"Hey, so, I can hear my parents yelling at me," I say apologetically. "I'll talk to you in like, ten minutes."

"I have writing to do!"

"Same here," I grin. "Business as usual then."

"Perfect!"

"I LARB YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY," I scream at her and hang up before she can answer, cackling like a gremlin.

Before I open my bedroom door, I open my clenched fist, and look at the very tiny piece of paper with scrawled writing on it in my hand. Part of brain is hoping it's just the Avengers 4 title or something.

 _..._

 _ **Don't tell Strange or Godsend**_

...

Don't tell Strange?! Don't tell him WHAT?! That is the most unhelpful thing EVER, Stark. What the actual hell?

Then I go to put the paper in my pocket, and I feel something already in there.

Okay. There is something very weird going on here.

Dr. Strange slipped Crystal the zodiac key, clearly not trusting me with any of that information. He's right to trust Crystal, of course, but he doesn't seem to believe that I'm needed in any of that.

And now Tony is giving me something that he doesn't want Dr. Strange to know about. Is this how Civil War 2 starts?

I pull a small metal item out of my pocket. It is a long metal bar, sort of like yellow brass that's been rusted over a few times. It's about the size of one-fourth of a kitkat bar. With a tiny ring under it, so that I can wear it over my knuckles. It's too big, of course. It looks like something Dr. Strange wears in his movie. But I don't remember why or if it's just a nice choice for the costuming department.

Well, screw you guys!

I send one last text to Crystal before I go downstairs.

 ** _I have something to show you._**

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THE END

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HEY READERS! If you enjoyed this, be sure to check out all of Crystal's amazing stories here on fan fiction. You can find her under QueenofCrystallopia. She is the creator of the epically scary Dravec, the MCFU universe, and so many of the funny moments attributed directly to her in this story where I texted her a scenario and got her feedback so that I could write what her real reactions would be.

This was a very very fun story and I'm about sixty-eight percent positive I'm going to write a sequel for her birthday next year.

Thanks for joining us on this lil' fandom ride!

-Pip


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